It's a Fact: Printed Stained
by LookAtMyShoes
Summary: She doesn't know what to make of the mess on her floor. Stares blankly at the clothes that had rained all over her carpet from the storm that had churned up her bed sheets and tossed her pillows away last night. ;Shizuru/Natsuki; ShizNat.


ShizNat is one of the best pairings to ever exist and I figured it was high time I gave them a quick oneshot.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

_It's a Fact (Printed Stained)_

Natsuki sat with her legs hanging off the side of her bed, loose dress shirt draped over her shoulders as if it were a very temporary and very vulnerable shield, buttons all undone along the front. She smoothes out a few of the creases, more to pass the time than to actually accomplish anything, and to listen to the scratch of her blunt nails against the fabric over the gentle clattering noises coming from her kitchen. She sighs, jutting out her bottom lip to blow away strands of hair from her face as her palms find the mattress again and she leans back into them.

She doesn't know what to make of the mess on her floor. Stares blankly at the clothes that had rained all over her carpet from the storm that had churned up her bed sheets and tossed her pillows away last night. Her thumb and index finger catch her chin as she leans an elbow on her knee and allows herself to absorb it. To accept the fact that more than just the smell of Shizuru's body wash is going to distract her when she tries to fall asleep for awhile.

It's unsettling to think this bed isn't hers anymore, because she's given half of it away to someone else. But it's kind of okay, since she never liked sleeping on the left side of the bed anyway, and Shizuru's cell phone is still on the bedside table over there.

This room isn't even hers anymore, it feels unnaturally foreign. It feels like someone else is in here with her, while in reality she is very much alone as the heels of her feet skim the carpet from her swinging legs. Fingers scolding the sheets as she digs into them for being so inviting to someone that isn't her, and now they'll never welcome her alone again. They'll be cold when they were perfectly warm before and now she can't rely on her own body heat.

Frustrated, she stands with a huff and every intention to begin scavenging for her clothes and locating a place that doesn't seem like a cemetery for her mistakes, when she finds Shizuru banked against the frame of her bedroom door wearing striped underwear and Natsuki's t-shirt.

"Natsuki is awake," she says easily, eyes slipping shut as she smiles and attends to the tea cup in her hand.

Natsuki responds with a strange, involuntary affirmative noise at the back of her throat while her wide eyes openly appreciate how her oversized white shirt barely hangs off of Shizuru's body. The older woman notices her ogling and in turn, she exaggerates her own traveling stare along the barren land of skin where Natsuki hasn't buttoned up her shirt. Suddenly aware of her state of dress, Natsuki yelps and tugs the two sides of her shirt together, wrapping it around her otherwise bare body. Shizuru shakes her head, placing her tea on the dresser propped up against the wall near the doorway before padding her way over to her companion, who is frantically attempting to button up her shirt before the other woman is able to reach her.

Natsuki has turned her back to her in a flurry, but Shizuru gently coaxes her back around again with a hand on her shoulder.

"Here, let me do it," Shizuru grabs the bottom button of the shirt and slides it into place, working her way up. Respectively, her eyes don't stray away from her task for a moment, and although Shizuru lives to tease as many blushes onto Natsuki's face or as many curses out of her mouth as she can, she knows the appropriate time to let it be.

It's reverse déjà vu, because last night Shizuru was helping her out of her clothes rather than into them, but she was no less unhurried and careful. She was as attentive to any confirming or disconcerting noises coming from the body beneath her as she is to slipping each button carefully back into place right now. As always, Natsuki was a bit more frenzied with her methods, and she's just now appreciating Shizuru's patience. Not only for last night, but for the last few years, and she wishes she had the strength within herself to apologize. Instead, she opens her mouth without any rough draft of what to say and all that comes out is a whisper.

"Shizuru…" she nearly whimpers as hands that aren't hers run themselves down the flat of Natsuki's stomach, over the barrier of her shirt, to smooth out the wrinkles. She tugs sharply with a flick of her wrist on the hem before smiling at her handiwork.

"You look nice in my shirt," Shizuru responds with a proud sort of smile, and Natsuki's eyes threaten to outgrow the space they've been given inside of her skull.

"Your wha -?" she finally looks down, finally takes an actual look at what she's wearing only to confirm what Shizuru has said. She's wearing the shirt she so diligently worked her counterpart out of last night, and upon further inspection of her memory, she remembers her own shirt didn't even have any buttons.

The fabric doesn't have any added weight to it with the knowledge that it isn't hers like she thought it would, and she finds herself attracted to the idea of Shizuru wearing her clothes, like she has some sort of mark on her because of it, and it doesn't wrench her insides counter clockwise with a fist of nails like it did before. She steps forward with one foot, testing the way it feels to willingly move into Shizuru's arms without lust's extra push. She's sober from any remotely sexual thoughts, and she allows the connection of her limbs to her heart rather than to her brain to reach out and slowly wrap her arms securely around Shizuru's waist, cheek nuzzled into her chest. Gentle hands touch her back fingertips first, cautious, before Shizuru's hold is equal in strength.

"You look nice in my shirt, too," Natsuki mumbles against Shizuru's chest, still shy of overexposing herself, so the words come out like a young boy apologizing to a little girl for getting mud on her dress, but Shizuru finds it all the more endearing as she rests her cheek upon a dark head of hair.

Mai's name flickers on the screen of Shizuru's cell phone, and Natsuki thinks the sound of it vibrating on the wood of her bedside table to fill their comfortable silence sounds nice, too. Nice enough for her to think more of Shizuru's things should be on that table.

They fall onto the bed, legs tangled, and Natsuki figures it's good for the sheets to feel bitter without Shizuru because the way the feel _with_ her is the safest home she's ever known.


End file.
